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1915 

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UC-NRLF 


75fl 


GIFT  OF 


The  Pet  Dove 


BY 

John  Rea 


A  Children's  Play  in  Four  Acts 


Published  by 
WHITAKER  &  RAY-WIGG/N  CO. 


Price  25  Cents 


THE   PET   DOVE 


BY 

JOHN  REA 

Author  of  "A  Captive  Maiden   in  Damascus" 


A  Children's  Play  in  Four  Acts 

(With  Music  for  Songs  Arranged  by  Author) 


Copyright  1915 
WHTTAKER    &    RAY-WIGGIN    CO. 


(31 


SAN   FRANCISCO 

WH1TAKER   &    RAY-WIGGTN    CO. 

1915 


KW/J 

THE  PET  DOVE 


THE  STORY 

Philip,  an  odd  little  boy  from  Ramoth-Gilead,  and  his 
widowed  mother,  Tirzah,  are  sojourning  in  Bethlehem 
about  the  time  of  the  visit  of  the  Wise  Men.  The  boy  is 
very  unhappy  because  certain  personal  peculiarities  seem 
to  make  .him  unacceptable  to  the  other  boys  of  the  vil 
lage;  but,  at  his  mother's  urgent  plea,  he  makes  another 
effort  to  get  upon  friendly  terms  with  them. 

Gaspar,  one  of  the  Wise  Men,  finds  an  opportunity  to 
lend  a  helping  hand  and  then,  with  the  aid  of  some  lit 
tle  shepherdesses,  a  few  angels,  a  little  music  and  magic 
and  a  Pet  Dove  belonging  to  one  of  the  boys,  Philip  gains 
his  heart's  desire  to  become  a  real  boy,  and  all  ends 
happily. 


312443 


THE  PET  DOVE 


Persons 

Gaspar— One  of  the  Magi.  A  large  man  with  a  long  white 
beard. 

Samuel  and  David— Boys  of  Bethlehem,  about  14  and 
12  years. 

Philip— An  odd  little  fellow  from  Ramoth-Gilead,  12  years 
and  small. 

Tirzah— Philip's  widowed  mother. 

Tabitha— A  young  neighbor  of  Tirzah. 

Zillah,  Hannah,  Naamah,  Beulah,  Miriam  and  Esther- 
Little  shepherdesses  of  Bethlehem. 

Ruth— A  little  pet  dove  belonging  to  Samuel. 

Incidental  Persons 

In  Act  2— The  two  other  Magi. 

In  Act  3— A  quartet  of  ladies'  voices. 

In  Act  4 — A  woman  to  appear  at  a  doorway. 

PI  ace- -Bethlehem.  Time— The  arrival  of  the  Magi.. 

Help  Needed 

A  superintendent  of  rehearsals. 

A  musician  to  manage  the  vocal  work. 

An  electrician  and  a  stage  manager. 

Several  ladies  to  assist  the  girls  in  changing  costumes. 

Costumes 

The  costumes  in  this  play  need  only  be  of  the  simplest 
forms  of  present  day  apparel  in  the  Orient;  that  of  boys 
and  of  girls  being  almost  identical,  the  girls  wearing  orna 
ments  on  their  heads,  arms  and  ankles;  the  boys  quite 
plain.  All  should  either  wear  sandals  or  go  barefoot.  No 
hosiery. 

The  angels  should  have  long,  drooping  wings;  white, 
flowing  robes,  arms  bare  and  no  ornaments. 

Some  little  make-up,  judiciously  used,  may  add  to  the 


THE  PET  DOVE 


Act.  1 

(The  auditorium  dark.  On  the  stage  the  interior  of 
Tirzah's  cottage  in  Bethlehem,  very  poor  and  plain.  Tir- 
zah  sitting  alone  on  an  ottoman,  mending  a  little  boy's 
Jacket;  looking  up  and  listening,  betimes,  as  if  anxious. 
A  rap  at  the  door.) 

TIRZAH— Come  in!  (Tabitha  enters  leading  Philip  by 
the  hand;  the  boy  scantily  clothed,  barefoot,  scared.) 

TABITHA— Is  this  your  little  boy?  He  says  he's  gone 
and  lost  himself  and  I've  been  trotting  him  round  among 
the  neighbors  trying  to  find  the  right  mother  for  him. 

(Ph.  runs  to  Tirzah,  embraces  her,  then  sits  on  floor.) 

TABITHA— (After  watching  them  a  moment).  Well, 
from  the  way  things  look  I  guess  you're  it  all  right. 

TIRZAH— Oh  yes.  Yes.  Thank  you,  thank  you  good 
neighbor.  The  Lord  reward  you. 

TABITHA— Oh,  that's  all  right.  I'm  glad  he's  found 
you.  Good  day.  Goodbye,  little  boy.  Don't  you  go  and 
lose  yourself  again  without  letting  me  know. 

(Tab,  retires,  smiling,  shaking  finger  at  Philip.) 

PHILIP— (Ardently)  Oh  mother,  I'm  so  glad  to  be  here! 
You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am. 

TIRZAH— And  I'm  pleased  to  have  my  little  boy  with 
me  again.  But  you  need  not  have  been  frightened.  Among 
such  kindly  people  you  would  be  safe  anywhere  you 
know.  I  haven't  been  worrying  about  you.  (Cheerily.) 
And  so  you've  been  out  playing  with  the  other  boys  this 
afternoon,  and  had  a  real  good  time? 

PHILIP— (Slowly  and  hanging  his  head.)  Well,  I 
tried  to  make  friends  with  some  of  them,  but  they  spoke 
cross  and  ran  away  from  me.  (A  pause,  then  turning  to 
her,  looking  up,  eagerly,)  Is  it  because  we  are  poor  and 
strangers  here,  mother?  Or  is  it  because  there  is  some 
thing  the  matter  with  me,  so  that  I'm  not  like  other  boys? 
They  all  laugh  at  me,  and  I  can't  help  it.  You  know 


.     THE    PET    DOVE 


T1RZAH — (Consolingly.)  Try  not  to  mind  them,  sonny. 
They  will  know  you  better  by  and  by.  Maybe  you  only 
imagined  they  meant  to  be  rude.  You  are  only  mother's 
little  man  now,  but  by  and  by  you  will  grow  up  and  be 
my  great  big  Philip,  "a  lover  of  horses"!  Won't  that  be 
fine? 

PHILIP— (Plaintively.)  Oh,  I  don't  believe  I  want  to 
grow  up,  mother.  I  only  want  to  be  like  you.  And  I 
don't  like  to  live  here  in  Bethlehem.  Do  you?  It's  so 
lonely.  I'd  rather  go  back  to  dear  old  Ramoth-Gilead 
where  everything  was  so  far  and  quiet  and  solitary;  and 
no  rude  boys  to  bother. 

TIRZ AH— (Petting  him.)  I  know,  sonny.  So  would  I, 
if  all  were  well  with  my  little  boy.  You  know  we  came 
over  Jordan  because  I  wanted  to  make  a  little  offering  in 
the  Temple,  for  fear  that  in  some  way  your  father  or  I 
had  sinned.  And  then  I  wanted  to  have  you  bathe  in 
the  bubbling  pool  of  Bethesda,.  But  nothing  seemed  to 
help;  so  we  came  here  to  live  in  seclusion  and  rest.  Some 
day,  when  God  is  more  gracious,  we  will  go  back  to  dear 
old  Ramoth-Gilead  and  be  happy,  just  you  and  I. 

(Philip  looks  up,  smiling  and  satisfied;  then  lovingly 
strokes  his  mother's  hair  and  speaks  softly.) 

PHILIP— Why  didn't  they  call  you  Julia,  mother,  you 
have  such  "soft  and  tender  hair";  or  Rhoda,  "a  wild  rose"; 
or  Se-rah,  "the  morning  star"? 

TIRZAH— (Fondling  the  little  boy.)  And  why  didn't 
I  call  my  little  son  Ar-non,  my  "sunlight,"  or  Zith-ai,  my 
"shadow,"  for  you  are  both  to  me,  or,  (slowly)  even  Shen-ir, 
"the  light  that  sleeps"? 

PHILIP— (Softly,  deprecatingly).  No,  mother,  No!  Those 
are  not  names  for  boys.  Only  holy  Angels  have  names 
like  those.  (With  hesitation.)  May  I  ask  you  a  question, 
mother? 

TIRZAH— Yes,  my  son,  what  is  it? 

PHILIP— (Slowly).  If  the  names  of  the  Angels  were  all 
brought  over  from  Babylon  how  is  it  they  don't  under 
stand  the  Chaldean  language?  I've  been  worrying  over 
that  all  day. 

TIRZAH— (Aside.)     My  poor  little  boy! 


ACT    I  7 

PHILIP— Did  you  ever  see  an  Angel,  mother?  (No  re 
sponse.)  How  I  would  love  to  see  La-i-lah,  the  "angel  of 
dreams";  or  Shed-eur,  the  "field  of  light";  or  Pa-ran,  the 
"angel  of  beauty."  (Looking  up  brightly.)  I  know  what 
angels  live  on,  mother.  They  live  on  Manna  and  the 
beams  of  the  Divine  Glory.  And  they  keep  busy,  too.  I 
know  of  one  who  is  a  weaver.  And  I  once  dreamed  I  saw 
him  weaving  crowns  for  God  out  of  the  prayers  the  other 
angels  carried  up  to  heaven. 

But  I  drdn't  see  ours  there.  Do  you  suppose,  maybe,  a 
careless  angel  lost  them  on  the  way  up? 

But,  do  you  know,  mother,  somehow  these  things  don't 
seem  so  real  and  true  to  me  over  here  as  when  I  sat  on 
the  mountain  side  away  over  in  Ramoth-Gilead  looking 
at  the  sunset  across  the  valley  of  Jordan.  I  used  to  know 
everything  by  its  name.  I  called  the  lovely  moonlight 
Nem-u-el,  it  looked  so  much  like  "the  sleeping  of  God." 
Don't  you  think  that's  a  pretty  name  for  it,  mother? 
(Ardently.)  What's  the  trouble  here?  Can't  you  tell  me? 

I  catch  you  looking  at  me  so  strangely  sometimes;  and 
then  you  hug  me  so  tight. 

It  seems  as  though  you  were  afraid  that,  maybe,  while 
you  weren't  looking,  a  big  hand  might  steal  out  of  the 
shadows  and  touch  me  so  that  I  should  wither;  or  that, 
maybe,  something  like  a  soft,  bright  mist  might  fall  all 
around  me  and  when  it  faded  away  I  shouldn't  be  there 
any  more.  I  often  feel  that  way.  Is  that  it,  mother  dear? 

TIRZAH— (Hiding  her  face  and  rocking  back  and 
forth.)  Oh,  Philip,  Philip,  you  will  break  my  heart  if  you 
talk  that  way.  I  can't  answer  you.  No,  no,  my  son.  Don't 
think  about  such  things.  Go  out  once  again.  Go  out 
among  the  little  fellows  in  their  play.  Maybe  they  will 
be  more  gentle  with  you  after  awhile.  You  are  all  I  have 
in  the  world.  Try  once  more.  Play  real  hard.  Be  a  real 
boy. 

PHILIP— (Rising,  speaking  cheerfully)  All  right, 
mother  dear.  I'll  try  again,  and  maybe  if  I  try  real  hard 
I  may  get  to  be  your  true  Philip,  riding  over  the  hills  on 
a  big  horse.  (Starts  away,  then  pauses  and  asks  in  dis 
appointed  tone.)  But  aren't  you  coming  along  this  time, 
mother? 


8  THE    PET    DOVE 

TIRZAH— No,  sonny.  You  will  get  on  better  without 
me.  I  shadow  you  too  much.  Go  and  play,  that's  a  dear, 
good  little  son.  Don't  go  too  far  away.  I'll  be  watching 
tor  you  while  I'm  mending  your  jacket. 

PHILIP— Well  then;  all  right.  Goodbye,  mother  dear. 
If  I  get  lost  again  somebody  will  bring  me  back,  I  know. 
There  are  lots  of  kind  people  in  the  world,  aren't  there. 
Goodbye,  mother! 

(Looks  back  longingly  as  he  goes  out,  waves'his  hand; 
then  comes  back,  lays  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  mur 
murs  : ) 

PHILIP — I'm  so  glad  you  aren't  a  boy. 

(Philip  goes  out  reluctantly.  Tirzah  looks  after  him; 
sighs,  shakes  her  head  sadly;  wipes  away  a  tear;  then 
goes  on  mending  the  little  jacket.) 

CURTAIN 


THE   PET    DOVE 

Act  2 

(The  same  afternoon.  A  cottage  doorway  seen  at  one 
side  of  the  stage,  with  a  light  above  it.  For  a  central 
background  the  wall  of  the  town.  Samuel  and  David 
lying  lazily  in  the  sun.  David  playing  with  his  harp; 
Samuel,  lying  on  his  back,  fondling  his  pet  dove,  which 
he  carries  in  the  flap  of  his  shirt.  Suddenly  they  look  up 
and  watch  the  approach  of  some  one  not  yet  in  sight  01 
the  audience.) 

SAMUEI^-Well,  what  a  queer  looking  lot  of  people.  Do 
you  see  them,  David?  Look,  they  are  coming  'this  way 
too. 

DAVID— They  can't  be  Jews,  'cause  they've  got  camels  to 
ride  on. 

SAMUEL— I  wonder  why  they  don't  go  up  to  the  inn? 

DAVID— Well,  they'd  better  not,  for  the  inn  is  full  and 
has  been  for  two  or  three  weeks.  I've  been  there  and  I 
know.  There's  an  awful  crowd  there  now. 

SAMUEL— I  wonder  where  they  came  from,  and  if 
they're  going  to  stay  long. 

(The  caravan  of  the  Magi  has  halted  not  far  away.  Boys 
watch  with  interest,  only  now  and  then  touching  their 
playthings.) 

DAVID— It  would  be  lots  of  fun  to  go  down  some  day 
and  see  their  camp,  wouldn't  it? 

SAMUEL— I'll  go  with  you  an:  e  you  say.  We 

needn't  go  close  up  you  know;  and  1  haven't  seen  any 
dog;  have  you? 

(As  they  are  watching  the  Magi,  Philip  slowly  wanders 
near,  a  pitiful  little  creature,  continually  looking  about 
him  as  if  in  fear.) 

DAVID— Aw!  Here  comes  that  silly  Philip  again!  We 
can't  go  anywhere  without  having  him  tag  after  us.  I'm 
just  sick  of  it. 

SAMUEI^-Now  Philip,  you  just  go  back  where  you 
came  from!  We  don't  want  you  with  us.  What  are  you 
looking  for? 

PHILIP— (Timidly.)  I,  I  thought,  maybe,  I  might  find 
somebody  down  here  to  play  with. 

SAMUEL— (Harshly.)  Oh  yes.  You're 'always  thinking 
something,  but  it's  only  because  you're  silly,  that's  all. 


10  THE    PET   DOVE 

PHILTP— I'm  lonesome,  and  I'm  cold  too;  real  cold. 
DAVID— Well,  that's  not  our  fault,  is  it? 

SAMUEI^-Why  didn't  you  put  on  your  coat;  you  knew 
it  was  cold,  didn't  you? 

PHILIP— I  couldn't,  'cause  mother  is  mending  it  for 
me.  (To  Samuel.)  O-h,  what  a  pretty  bird  you've  got!  I 
never  saw  anything  so— (putting  out  his  hand,  as  if  to 
touch  it.) 

SAMUEL— Aw!  Keep  your  hands  away!  She  might  bite 
you.  She  gets  awful  savage  sometimes. 

PHILIP— Oh,  I  didn't  know.  I  never  had  a  live  bird  in 
my  hand  and  I  just  thought  I'd  like  to  see  how  they  feel. 

SAMUEL— Well,  just  go  on  home  now,  Philip,  we're 
busy. 

PHILIP— I  haven't  any  home  here.  I  wish  you  boys 
would  let  me  stay  and  play  with  you  a  little  bit. 

DAVID— No.  You'd  better  run  along.  It's  getting  dark, 
and  I  see  three  strange  men  down  yonder.  Hurry  up. 
(Acts  as  if  scared.) 

(Philip  looks  about  timidly,  then  scurries  off  out  of 
sight  while  the  boys  fasten  their  eyes  on  the  three  men, 
who  have  left  the  tent  and  now  pass  slowly  across  the 
front  of  the  stage,  toward  the  doorway  of  the  cottage 
opposite.) 

SAMUEL — I  wonder  what  they're  up  to  now? 

DAVID— Each  of  them  has  a  bundle.  Where  do  you 
suppose  they're  going? 

SAMUEI^-And  what  are  they  all  looking  at?  They 
think  they  see  something,  that's  sure,  and  they're  walk 
ing  straight  toward  it.  I  see  them  looking  at  something. 
(Boys  gaze  same  way.) 

DAVID— I  believe  I  see  what  it  is! 
SAMUEL— Do  you?    Where? 

DAVID— (Pointing)  Over  yonder.  Don't  you  see  a  light, 
high  up  over  that  little  house?  It  looks  like  a  star.  I 
wonder  if  it  really  is  one? 

SAMUEL— Why,  that's  where  those  poor  folks  from 
up  country  are  staying. 


ACT   II  11 

DAVID— I  know.  The  place  where  they've  got  the  baby; 
the  one  that  was  born  in  the  stable,  don't  you  remember? 

SAMUEL— Yes.    But  look.    They're  going  in. 

(Magi  rap  at  cottage  door;  enter,  and  light  disappears.) 

DAVID— And  what's  gone  with  that  star?  Well,  if  that 
isn't  the  greatest.  Say,  Samuel,  I  feel  sort  of  queer.  I'm 
about  half  scared  to  stay  here.  My  folks  will  wonder 
what's  keeping  me.  Come  on,  let's  go. 

SAMUEL— Hold  on  a  minute  'till  I  put  my  bird  in  a 
good  warm  place.  (Samuel  puts  the  dove  in  his  shirt  flap. 
Boys  start  away.  A  voice  heard  not  far  off.  Philip  reap 
pears.) 

PHILIP— Oh,  boys!   Wait  for  me,  won't  you?     Please 
wait  for  me!  I  can't  find  my  way  home  alone. 
(Boys  hurry  off  without  replying.) 

PHILIP— They  might  have  waited  for  me  just  a  minute. 
I  don't  mean  any  harm.  I  wouldn't  bother  them.  Now 
I  can't  get  home,  and  I'll  have  to  wait  until  somebody 
comes  along  (Sits  down,  despairingly.) 

I  wish  somebody  cared  for  me.    I'm  awful  lonely! 

(Just  here  the  shepherdesses  appear,  with  their  crooks 
and  harps  and  pipes,  dancing  about  and  chattering  in 
true  girl  fashion.  Suddenly  they  come  upon  Philip,  alone 
and  disconsolate.  They  gather  round  him,  Beulah  be 
hind  the  others.) 

ZILLAH— Well,  I  declare,  what's  this?  What  are  you 
doing  here,  little  boy?  What's  the  matter,  are  you  sick, 
or  lost,  or, — what? 

PHILIP— I'm  waiting  'till  somebody  comes  along  who 
will  be  kind  to  me  and  show  me  how  I  can  get  home. 

HANNAH— Where  do  you  live?  We  are  going  into 
town  pretty  soon. 

PHILIP— Oh,  are  you?    Then,  please  may  I  go  with  you? 

NAAMAH— (Aside.)  Poor  little  lamb.  I'm  sorry  for  him, 
he  looks  so  cold  and  pitiful. 

BEULAH— (Pushing  in  from  behind  the  others.)  Say, 
little  boy,  does  your  mother  know  you're  out  here? 


12  THE    PET    DOVE 

MIRIAM— Now  don't  start  teasing,  Beulah.  You  can't 
be  happy  unless  you're  poking  fun  at  somebody. 

BEULAH— Well,  isn't  that  all  right?  Doesn't  the 
Good  Book  tell  us  there's  a  time  to  laugh?  What's  to 
hinder  my  thinking  I've  got  there  right  now?  (Laughs 
and  points  to  Phil.)  Look  at  it. 

MIRIAM— Yes,  but  in  The  Book  the  time  to  weep  comes 
first,  and  this  looks  more  like  it  to  me. 

PHILIP— Aren't  you  girls  going  into  town  now? 
ESTHER— No;   we're  going  for  our  sheep  first. 
PHILIP— Which  way  are  you  going? 
ESTHER— Down  past  that  tent. 

PHILIP— Will  you  take  me  there  and  let  me  wait  'till 
you  come  back?  Then  you  can  take  me  home,  maybe? 

ZILLAH— Yes,  come  right  along. 

(Zillah  takes  Philip's  hand  and  leads  him  to  the  door 
of  the  empty  tent,  where  she  leaves  him;  the  girls  go  on 
their  way,  chattering  and  singing.  Zillah  looks  back  and 
waves  a  hand  to  the  boy;  then  all  disappear.  Philip 
stands  looking  wistfully  after  them.) 

PHILIP— I  wish  I  were  a  girl! 
CURTAIN 


THE    PET    DOVE  13 

Act  3 

(The  next  afternoon.  Stage  same  at  last  scene.  Gaspar 
sitting  quietly  in  front  of  his  tent,  reading  from  a  scroll. 
Samuel  and  David  slowly  edge  their  way,  boy  fashion, 
toward  the  place.  Gaspar  watches  until  they  come  quite 
near,  then  speaks  quietly.) 

GASPAR— Come  here,  boys.    I  would  like  to  see  you. 
(Boys  shyly  draw  near  and  make  their  salaam.) 

GASPAR— What  are  your  names,  boys? 
DAVID— My  name's  David. 
SAMUEL— And  I  am  Samuel. 

GASPAR — Well,  those  are  fine  names.  Ah,  Samuel,  my 
boy,  what  a  pretty  bird  you  have.  Is  it  a  pet?  And 
what  do  you  call  it? 

SAMUEL-It's  a  little  wild  bird  that  I  caught  in  a 
snare.  It  soon  got  very  tame.  Lots  of  boys  have  tame 
birds. 

GASPAR— I  hope  you  are  very  kind  to  it.  You  know 
every  wild  bird  is  a  sort  of  little  brother  or  little  sister 
to  you;  and  if  you  keep  it  you  become  like  a  little  father 
or  older  brother  to  it. 

SAMUEL— My  birdie's  a  girl,  and  her  name  is  Ruth;  so 
then  I  suppose  she's  my  little  sister.  One  day  when  I 
was  carrying  her  off  on  a  long  trip  what  do  you  think 
happened?  Guess.  Why  she  laid  a  little  egg  right  in  my 
shirt.  The  cutest  thing  you  ever  saw.  I've  got  it  at  home 
now  and  I'll  show  it  to  you  some  day,  if  you  like. 

GASPAR— (Laughing)  Well  now!  That's  delightful. 
Have  little  Jewish  boys  many  amusements  as  fine  as  that? 

DAVID— Oh,  no,  not  very.  We  play  with  slings  and 
arrows  and  balls  and  music  and  pet  birds— but  girls— 
they  wear  all  sorts  of  silly,  tinkling  things  on  their  legs 
and  arms. 

SAMUEL— (Boastfully.)  My  sister  wears  great  big  rings 
in  her  ears!  My  auntie  gave  them  to  her  and  she's  awful 
proud  of  them. 


14  THE    PET    DOVE 

GASPAR— We  have  a  great  many  little  boys  over  in 
Chaldea,  where  I  live,  and  we  like  them  to  keep  pets  be 
cause  in  that  w^ay  they  learn  to  be  kind  to  everybody. 

SAMUEL—  Did  you  folks  come  for  the  big  Registration? 
Almost  everybody  has;  and  they  don't  like  it. 

GASPAR — Oh  no.  We  are  here  on  a  very  different  er 
rand.  Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  about  it? 

BOYS— Oh,  yes,  please.    We  like  to  hear  stories. 

GASPAR— Well,  sit  down  here  by  me  and  I'll  tell  you. 
(They  sit.)  Over  in  Chaldea  our  people  call  us  Magi,  not 
altogether  because  we  practice  Magic,  but  because  we  are 
students.  We  study  the  stars;  and  they  sometimes  tell 
us  very  strange  things.  Among  others  that  a  wonderful 
new  King  was  to  be  born  somewhere  in  the  far  west;  and 
we  have  followed  His  Star  until  we  reached  our  jour 
ney's  end. 

DAVID — We  saw  that  light  and  watched  you  going 
across  to  the  cottage.  But  that  wasn't  the  place,  was  it? 

GASPAR— Yes.  That  was  the  very  place.  We  went  in 
and  saw  the  little  King  and  made  Him  some  presents. 

SAMUEI^— Was  that  w'hat  you  were  carrying  in  those 
bundles? 

GASPAR— Yes,  and  we  were  very  glad  to  find  Him,  for 
we  have  been  journeying  a  long,  long  time. 

DAVID— How  long?    A  whole  week? 

GASPAR— Oh,  we  .have  been  on  our  way  for  more  than 
two  years! 

BOYS— (Astonished.)  Two  Years!  All  just  to  see  a  baby? 

GASPAR — Yes,  but  you  see  some  babies  are  very  re 
markable.  Don't  you  think  they  must  be? 

SAMUEL— Yes,  and  I  know  people  say  some  awful 
strange  things  about  babies;  the  queerest  things  you  ever 
listened  to.  Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  what  my  moth 
er  says  about  them? 

GASPAR— Yes,  I  would;   very  much  indeed. 


ACT  III  15 

SAMUEL— (In  a  low,  distinct  voice.)  Well,  my  mother 
says  that  babies,  all  the  time  they're  waiting  to  be  born, 
can  see  everything  there  is  up  in  heaven;  and  when  it's 
time  for  their  birthday  an  Angel  comes  down  and  sweeps 
his  wing  across  the  baby's  mouth  and  that  wakes  him  up 
in  this  world,  and  when  he's  born  he  don't  see  heaven 
any  more,  only  things  in  this  world. 

GASPAR— It  would  be  fine  if  they  could  tell  us  what 
they  saw7  up  there,  wouldn't  it? 

DAVID— Yes,  but  they  can't.    They've  forgotten  it  all. 

GASPAR— Oh,  no.  I  don't  think  they  could  ever  real 
ly  forget  it.  But,  you  see,  they  haven't  any  heaven  words 
with  which  to  tell  about  it.  It's  all  there  all  the  time. 
Almost  everybody  thinks  he  can  remember  some  of  it, 
now  and  then;  but  he  can't  tell  it. 

SAMUEL — Maybe  they  just  dream  it.  I  dream  lots  of 
times.  The  other  night  I  dreamed  I  was— 

GASPAR— (Interrupting.)  But  now  listen,  boys.  I 
want  to  ask  you  a  very  serious  question.  What  do  you 
suppose  would  happen  if  that  Birthday  Angel  got  think 
ing  about  something  else,  and  was  careless,  and  just 
about  half  forgot  what  he  was  doing,  and  didn't  shut 
off  all  the  lovely  things,  and  didn't  more  than  about 
half  wake  up  the  baby  in  this  world? 

SAMUEL— (Very  soberly.)  Well,  I  declare!  I  never 
thought  of  that. 

GASPAR — Now,  boys,  that  sometimes  happens.  And 
when  it  does  don't  you  suppose  that,  as  the  baby  grew 
up,  he  would  seem  to  be  about  half  dreaming  all  the 
time  and  seeing  queer  things  he  couldn't  tell  about?  We 
have  boys  like  that  over  where  I  live,  and  I'm  pretty 
sure  you  have  them  here  too.  Sometimes  they  go  about 
like  strangers,  or  lost  people,  and  seem  to  care  very  lit 
tle  for  anything  around  them.  Thoughtless  children 
sometimes  make  fun  of  them  and  treat  them  very  shab 
bily.  (Philip  calls.)  Listen!  Is  that  some  one  calling 
you? 

(All  listen,  Philip  calls  in  a  plaintive  style.) 

PHILIP— Oh  boys,  where  are  you?    Where  are  you? 


16  THE    PET    DOVE 

SAMUEL — (Impatiently.)  Oh  there's  that  plaguey 
Philip  again.  He  just  follows  us  everywhere.  He's  no 
good.  He  can't  play  anything  and  he's  awful  queer.  Peo 
ple  say  that  somebody  with  the  evil  eye  must  have  looked 
at  him  when  he  was  a  baby. 

(Philip  appears,  in  pitiful  guise.) 

DAVID— (Sharply.)  Now  you  just  go  home  Philip.  We 
don't  want  you  following  us  around  everywhere.  This  is 
private. 

(Philip  half  turns  away;  frightened.  Uncertain  what 
to  do.) 

.  SAMUEL— He's  always  trying  to  say  something,  and  he 
keeps  standing  around  looking  that  queer  way.  It  just 
makes  me  tired.  He  spoils  everything. 

GASPAR — But  maybe  Philip  has  come  to  see  me.  Poor 
boy!  Oh,  I  wonder,  now!  Maybe  Philip's  Birthday  Angel 
was  very  careless  when  he  was  born.  Maybe  that  is  why  he 
is  always  thinking  he  sees  things.  I  wonder  if  that  might 
not  be  just  his  trouble?  In  Chaldea  we  sometimes  call 
that  sort  of  people  Seers.  I  could  tell  you  a  great  many 
interesting  things  about  them. 

SAMUEL— You  can't  get  them  to  tell  you  what  they 
saw,  if  they  haven't  any  heaven  words,  can  you? 

GASPAR — No,  but  sometimes  we  can  find  out  in  other 
wrays.  Now  let  me  tell  you  something,  boys. 

Last  evening  I  found  Philip  sitting  here  at  my  tent  door, 
waiting  for  some  kind  girls  to  take  him  home,  and,  after 
we  had  gotten  a  little  acquainted,  I  took  him  over  to 
visit  the  baby  King  yonder  in  the  cottage.  And  as  we 
came  out  a  very  curious  thing  happened. 

Philip  stood  perfectly  still,  as  though  he  were  looking 
away  down  a  long,  long  road.  And  as  I  watched  him  I 
saw  a  soft,  gentle  smile  come  over  his  face  and  he  lifted 
his  hand,  slowly,  as  though  he  saw  something  very,  very 
beautiful,  away  down  in  the  far  off  years  to  come.  I 
didn't  ask  him  what  it  was.  Maybe  he  couldn't  have  told 
me  if  I  had. 

But  I  think  I  can  find  out,  even  if  he  has  no  words  with 
which  to  tell  about  it.  I  feel  pretty  sure  I  can  arrange  it 
so  that  you  and  David  can  see  what  he  saw. 

Would  you  like  me  to  do  that  for  you? 


ACT  III  17 

SAMUEL — Oh,  yes.  Do.  I  wonder  if  it  was  anything 
about  that  baby?  We're  awfully  curious  about  Him. 
Everybody  is. 

DAVID— (Seriously.)  Maybe  that  Angel  was  real  care 
less  when  Philip  was  born;  and  maybe  he  saw  something 
away  down  there  that  looked  like  heaven  to  him.  Oh,  I'm 
sorry  we've  been  so  cross  and  mean  to  him.  Do,  please 
ask  him  what  he  saw  that  time.  I've  always  wanted  to 
know  about  heaven.  My  mother  talks  ,a  lot  about  it,  but 
I  don't  think  she  really  knows  anything  more  than  what 
our  Rabbi  tells  her. 

GASPAR — Well,  I'm  willing  to  do  what  I  can  for  you, 
but,  of  course,  boys,  you  understand  that  the  heaven 
things  Philip  might  see  now  could  only  be  what  we 
would  call  heaven-on-earth  things;  for  he  couldn't  tell 
about  any  others  and  we  couldn't  understand  him  if  he 
did.  But  they  might  be  pretty  good  for  all  that;  don't 
you  think  so?  Even  if  the  two  worlds  did  get  a  little 
mixed. 

Come  here,  Philip,  my  little  friend. 

PHILIP— Yes,  I'm  coming.  But  I'm  afraid  those  boys 
there  won't  like  it  very  much,— maybe. 

GASPAR— Oh  yes,  I  think  they  will.  Come,  sit  down 
here  with  the  boys  and  me. 

(Philip  comes.  The  boys  make  room  for  him  pleas 
antly.) 

GASPAR— Now,  boys,  I  want  to  try  a  little  experiment. 
Philip,  I  want  you  to  sit  in  the  middle  and  look  straight 
before  you  and  think  of  what  you  saw  when  you  came  out 
of  the  cottage  where  we  were  last  night. 

Samuel,  you  sit  on  his  right  hand  and  David  here  on 
his  left.  Now  each  of  you  take  one  of  Philip's  hands  and 
lean  up  against  him.  There;  that's  right.  Now  sit  very 
still,  while  you  each  eat  one  of  these  little  honey-cakes. 

It  won't  be  long  until  you  go  to  sleep.  Then  you  will 
each  have  a  dream  and  in  your  dream  you  will  see  just 
what  Philip  is  thinking  of.  Now  sit  very  quietly.  We 
are  all  ready. 

(Gaspar  slowly  rises,  gives  Samuel  and  David  each  a  lit 
tle  cake,  then  takes  his  place  behind  the  group.  Philip 
fixes  his  eyes  on  the  distant  vision.  Samuel  and  David 
finish  their  cakes,  then  fall  asleep  and  soon  it  grows 
entirely  dark  around  them. 


18  THE    PET    DOVE 

While  they  continue  motionless  a  concealed  quartet  of 
ladies'  voices  sing  an  angels'  song;  at  first  as  if  from 
far  away;  slowly  increasing.  Light  comes  on  slowly.) 


ANGELS'    SONG 


Wake,  Oh  wake,  the  shadows  flee  away; 
Sleep  no  more,  for  Lo,  the  day  is  breaking. 

Mists  of  doubt  and  sorrow,  wan  and  gray, 
Vanish  in  the  smile  of  kindness  growing. 

Angels  come  to  bless  the  happy  morning 
Come  to  clear  the  dawn  of  sadness;   Oh, 

WTake,  the  rosy  sky  with  love  is  glowing, 
Stars  are  melting  in  the  dawning  gladness. 

(At  the  words  "Angels  come"  a  group  of  three  angels, 
in  filmy  white,  silvery  robes,  noiselessly  glide  in  out  of 
the  darkness  and  stand  behind  the  boys,  like  angels  in 
a  dream,  looking  down  smilingly  upon  the  group,  with 
hands  extended,  as  if  in  blessing;  these  are  Zillah,  Han 
nah  and  Naamah,  in  dim  light  only.) 

ZILLAH— (Very  softly  and  slowly;  as  a  voice  in  a 
dream.)  The  Angel  which  redeemed  them  from  all  evil 
bless  the  lads!. 

(Phillip  extends  his  hand  and  pleads,  as  one  in  a 
dream.) 


PHILIP— Oh  that  these  boys  were  as  my  little  brothers! 

HANNAH— (Very  softly).  Listen,  my  sisters!  Someone 
has  given  him  a  drink  of  the  ''wine  of  the  best  beloved," 
and  the  little  one  (pointing  to  Ph.)  is  talking  in  his 
sleep.  He  has  fallen  into  a  trance  with  his  eyes  open. 
He  is  sitting  in  the  mingled  twilight  of  two  worlds  and 
as  yet  it  is  neither  clear  nor  dark  around  him. 

NAAMAH — Are  not  angels  Ministering  Spirits  sent  forth 
to  minister  unto  such  as  these?  Let  us  wake  them 
gently,  here  in  the  Land  of  Dreams,  while  we  wave  above 
them  our  banner  of  love. 


,,* 


ACT  III  19 

Angels'  Song  (a  capella) 
(A  quartet  of  Ladies'  Voices) 

Dohnanyi  arr.  by  J.  R. 


1.   Wake,  Ob  wake,  the  shadows 


flee  a -way!  Sleep  no  more,  for  lo,  th 


day  is  breaking 


i 


i 


y  jj  j  j  j'J 


3.      An-  gels    come  to    bless  the 


happy  morn-ing; 


Come  to  clear  the  dawn  of  sad  -  ness,    oh 


^tt 


J.  J  J  J  JJ 


^fe 


ji 


vy  T   ^ 


20  THE    PET    DOVE 

ZILLAH— (Touching  S.  and  D.,  the  others  waving  their 
hands.)  Wake,  little  sleepers.  Dream  no  more  of  a  far 
off  land  of  loving-kindness.  Near  at  hand  the  Day  of 
Love  is  breaking.  The  shadows  of  chill  loneliness  are 
ready  to  flee  away. 

(D.  and  S.  slowly  stir  themselves;  rub  their  eyes  and 
look  around  them,  sleepily.  Hannah  comes  near  and 
lays  her  hand  on  Philip's  shoulder.) 

HANNAH— Wake,  little  lad,  and  as  one  whom  his  moth 
er  comforteth,  so  will  we  comfort  thee.  (Philip  stirs  a 
little.) 


NAAM AH— (Laying  a  hand  upon  S.  and  D.,  as  they 
remain  silent.)  Lo,  God  hath  sent  His  Messengers  that 
ye  may  kno\v  how  good  and  how  pleasant  a  thing  it  is 
for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity.  The  heart  that 
is  alone  knoweth  only  its  own  bitterness;  and  for  this 
cause  two  are  ever  better  than  one  and  the  three-fold 
cord  of  love  with  which  we  bind  is  never  quickly  broken. 


ZILLAH — Love  is  better  than  the  wings  of  the  morn 
ing.  A  friend  loveth  at  all  times;  and  even  little  brothers 
are  born  to  help  in  the  hour  of  adversity. 

'Beulah,  in  angel's  garb,  enters,  daintily,  carrying  a 
platter  of  wafers,  and  dropping  flowers  as  she  comes.) 

HANNAH— What  tidings,   little  sister,   from   the  Land 
of   Kindly  Hearts  and  Loving  Thoughts? 
(Beulah  comes  to  center  of  group  and  speaks  slowly.) 

BEULAH — Once,  long  ago,  in  time  of  loneliness  and 
trouble,  man  did  eat  Angels'  Food;  and  now  I  bring  you 
bread  from  heaven  for  food  on  earth,  for  Love  is  the 
bread  of  God. 

(Offers  wafers.  Boys  take  them  and  eat  as  if  dreaming. 
Beulah  retires.) 

ZILLAH — (Waving  her  hands  above  the  boys.)  Lo, 
with  this  bread  eaten  in  secret  let  all  your  sorrows  turn 
to  joy. 


ACT  III  21 

NAAMAH— Long  ago  I  heard  a  voice,  wet  with  tears, 
which  said,  "Woe  unto  him  that  is  alone  when  he  falleth." 
So  now,  lest  any  evil  befall  them,  come,  my  sisters,  let 
us  bind  them  together  with  the  cords  of  love. 

(The  Angels  now  gently  weave  the  boys'  arms  around 
each  other;  Philip  in  the  middle.  Then,  all  smiling  and 
happy,  they  stand  together,  making  a  perfect  tableau  of 
peace  and  love.  While  they  thus  stand  the  concealed 
voices  begin  to  sing  again 

"Wake,   O  Wake,  the  shadows  flee  away": 

the  sound  growing  more  and  more  soft  and  indistinct 
as  the  light  slowly  vanishes.  Then  the  dream  fades 
entirely  away,  and  all  grows  dark. 

Quickly  and  noiselessly  the  girls  retire  and  the  boys 
rearrange  themselves,  precisely  as  they  had  been  placed 
by  old  Gaspar:  David  and  Saml.  asleep;  Philip  gazing 
before  him.) 


22  THE    PET    DOVE 

ACT  4. 

(When  all  is  ready  the  light  is  quickly  turned  upon  the 
stage.  Saml  and  David  rise,  rub  their  eyes  and  fasten 
them  upon  Philip.  Presently  they  offer  him  their  hands 
and  he  rises  also,  but  with  a  curious  smile  upon  his 
face.) 

SAML— (Drowsily.)  Why,  wasn't  somebody  talking  to 
us  boys?  Where  are  we  now?  I  thought  I  saw  us  out 
side  somewhere  just  a  minute  ago.  Did  you  call  me, 
David? 

DAVID— No.  I  didn't  say  anything.  You  must  have 
been  dreaming.  But  I'm  sure  I  saw  myself  somewhere 
else,  and,  say,  Samuel,— did  you  notice  what  was  happen 
ing?  (No  answer.) 

PHILIP— Was  I  there,  boys?  Did  you  see  little  Philip 
tagging  around  anywhere? 

SAMUEI^-Oh  Philip,  please  don't  say  that  mean  word 
again.  Yes,  you  stood  in  the  middle  and  my  arm  was 
around  you, — so. 

DAVID— And  mine  too,  Philip.  Didn't  you  feel  me 
give  you  that  big  hug;  like  this?  (Boys  arrange  them 
selves  as  in  dream.) 

PHILIP— I  guess  it  must  have  been  so,  for  I  really 
believe  this  is  just  what  I  saw.  But  maybe  it  was  only 
a  dream.  It  seems  too  much  like  heaven  on  earth  to  be 
true.  It  seemed  sort  of  mixed  and  there  were  almost  too 
many  angels  around  for  this  world.  Didn't  you  boys 
see  them? 

SAML— I'm  not  sure  about  that,  but  if  you  saw  them 
that's  enough.  Some  boys  can  see  angels  where  others 
can't,  you  know.  But  even  if  we  didn't  see  angels  we 
are  going  to  make  the  dream  come  true  anyway.  What's 
the  use  of  having  dreams  if  they  don't  come  true? 

7  DAVID— Well,  I  know  it's  not  a  dream  now.  I'm  awake 
all  over,  for  I've  pinched  myself  in  three  different  places 
and  it  was  ME  every  time. 


ACT  IV  23 

SAML— Why,  Philip,  you  are  trembling.  Are  you  cold? 
Here,  let  me  put  my  outside  jacket  on  you.  (Puts  it 
on  him.) 

DAVID— And— Oh,  I  forgot!  I've  some  cakes  and  figs 
here  in  my  scrip.  Take  some,  Philip,  for  I  know  you  must 
be  hungry.  (David  gets  a  fig,  Philip  eats  it  eagerly.) 

SAMUEL— And  look.  Why,  Philip,  your  feet  are  bleed 
ing,  where  you've  been  walking  over  the  rough  stones 
Wear  my  sandals  awhile.  I  love  to  go  barefoot. 

PHILIP — (Overcome.)  Oh,  boys!  It  seems  too  mucn 
like  a  vision.  It  don't  seem  as  if  it  could  be  true.  I've 
been  so  lonely  I  couldn't  help  following  you  boys  around. 
You  always  looked  so  happy.  But  I  didn't  mean  to  be 
a  bother.  I  just  couldn't  help  it.  I  know  I  don't  seem 
like  other  boys.  Maybe  if  you  will  help  me  I'll  be  more 
like  them  now,  but,  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  see  some  of 
the  beautiful  things  I  have  seen!  Like  this,  only  far  more 
so. 

SAMUEL— Well*  Philip,  we  have  seen  and  heard 
enough,  and  it  has  made  us  over  into  new  boys.  Tell 
you  what,  David,  there's  only  one  thing  for  us  to  do  now. 
We've  got  to  adopt  Philip  for  our  brother.  What  do  you 
say  to  it? 

DAVID— Why,  sure.  That  would  be  just  like  the  dream 
come  true.  For  he  is  really  our  brother,  you  know.  He's 
just  a  sort  of  little  wild  bird  we've  caught,  you  know. 
So  that's  settled.  He  belongs  to  us. 

(A  pleasant  silence  falls  upon  the  trio,  then,  with  a 
smile,  and  fumbling  in  his  shirt  a  moment,  Saml.  says 
softly:) 

SAMI^-And  say,  Philip,  how  would  you  like  to  carry 
little  Ruth  awhile?  I  love  her  more  than  anything  in 
the  world,  but  it  seems  as  though  I  just  couldn't  be 
selfish  any  more  about  anything.  She's  your  sister  now, 
too,  you  know. 

DAVID— (In  glee.)  Oh  that's  fine!  That's  fine!  But, 
let  me  give  you  some  advice,  little  Brother  Philip.  Look 
out  for  yourself,  maybe  she'll  lay  a  little  egg  in  your 
shirt. 


24  THE    PET    DOVE 

PHILIP— (Eagerly  holding  out  both  hands.)  Oh, 
boys!  There's  something  queer  about  it,  but  if  there's 
one  thing  in  the  world  I've  longed  for  more  than  another 
it  is  to  know  how  it  would  feel  to  hold  a  little,  live  bird 
in  my  hands.  I've  always  felt  that  way,  though  I 
couldn't  explain  it  to  anybody. 

SAMUEL— All  right,  Philip,  it's  your  turn  now.  Here, 
Ruthie,  go  and  make  your  new  brother  happy. 

(Saml.  gently  passes  Ruth  into  Philip's  hands.  Ph. 
fondles  the  little  bird,  then  slowly  raises  her  to  his  cheek 
and  closes  his  eyes;  his  face  beaming  with  delight.  The 
boys  watch  him  in  smiling  silence. 

Then,  just  as  he  moves  the  soft  little  body  across  his 
lips,  he  stops  as  if  startled  by  some  strange,  unexpected, 
thrilling  sensation  and  exclaims,  in  great  agitation:) 

PHILIP— Oh,  Boys!  Wait  a  minute.  I've  just  felt 
something!  Angels  have  feathers  on  their  wings,  don't 
they?  Oh,  now  I  know.  IT'S  MY  BIRTHDAY  ANGEL! 
There,  I  felt  him  again.  I  guess  he  was  sorry  for  me 
and  came  back  to  touch  my  lips  again  so  that  I  might 
be  a  real  boy,  like  you. 

Yes— Yes— that's  it.  That's  it!  I  know  it  now.  Come 
on,  boys,  let's  have  a  good  time  together.  I'm  all  right! 
I'm  a  real  boy.  MY !  ISN'T  IT  FINE ! 

(Boys  caper  and  dance  around,  chasing  each  other  in 
glee.  Philip  puts  dove  into  the  flap  of  his  shirt.  Just 
at  this  moment  they  hear  the  shepherdesses  calling  their 
sheep. 

Passing  the  tent  the  girls  come  toward  the  boys,  pause, 
and  then,  recognizing  them,  surround  them  gleefully.) 

DAVID— Why,  where  have  you  girls  been  all  this  time? 

MIRIAM— Oh,  we've  been  looking  for  our  sheep.  But 
I  guess  they  must  all  be  in,  for  we  can't  find  them  any 
where. 

BEULAH— (Pointing  to  the  boys.)  You  needn't  worry 
about  that,  Miriam.  Here  are  three  little  woolly  lambs 
running  loose  yet. 

PHILIP— Why,  I've  seen  all  these  girls  before.  Oh, 
I  remember  now,  it  was  in  my  dream.  But  you  were 
Angels  then,  with  big,  white  wings. 


ACT  IV  25 

BEULAH — Well,  you  saucy  boy,  aren't  we  angels  now 
just  the  same,  all  but  the  wings? 

PHILIP— Oh  yes,  of  course,  but,  Oh  now  I  see  who  it  is. 
You're  the  one  who  fed  us  with  manna,  aren't  you?  I've 
been  thinking  a  lot  about  you. 

HANNAH— Well,  I  guess  that  means  he's  hungry  again. 
It  seems  to  me  boys  are  always  hungry.  (Turning  to 
David.)  Here,  David,  let  me  see  what  you  have  in  that 
dirty  old  scrip.  You  know  in  the  really-truly  world  the 
gentlemen  always  provide  the  refreshments. 

(David  passes  over  the  bag.  Hannah  examines  it;  all 
watching  her  with  interest.  Many  a  laugh  rises  as  she 
pulls  out  all  sorts  of  boys'  treasures;  a  ball,  string,  sling, 
pebbles,  etc.,  at  last  producing  some  cakes.) 

DAVID— Sure  enough,  I  believe  I  did  once  have  a  lot  of 
figs  and  cakes  in  there.  Let  me  have  that  bag,  Hannah. 
Sit  down,  everybody,  and  I'll  see  what  there  is. 

(All  sit  down.  David  digs  up  his  store.  The  girls  wipe 
off  the  dust  and  then  all  eat  in  lively  fashion,  chattering 
like  a  flock  of  birds.  Philip  slyly  steals  round  and  puts 
a  bit  of  fig  into  the  end  of  Beulah's  shepherd  pipe.  She 
detects  him  at  it,  takes  the  pipe,  tries  it,  then  jumps  up 
and  chases  him  around.) 

BEULAH— Oh,  I'll  catch  you  yet,  you  little  rascal! 

(They  caper  round  the  stage.  She  catches  him  by  the 
ear  and  leads  him  back  into  the  circle.) 

NAAMAH— Come  now,  Beulah;  stop  your  nonsense! 
Be  quiet  and  let  us  sing  a  song,  while  we  are  sitting 
here  on  the  grass.  It  seems  to  me  everybody  is  pretty 
happy  just  now,  and  that  always  makes  a  good  song. 

ALI^-Yes,  Yes,  Yes— Let  us  have  a  song! 

ZILLAH— Well,  get  your  instruments  ready  and  we  will 
sing  the  Song  of  Our  Good  Shepherd.  (They  prepare  and 
then  sing.) 


THE    PET    DOVE 

Song  of  the  Children  sitting  on  the  Grass 

(3  verses) 


rnknmvii.  Arr    l,.v  .1    R. 


1.    The  Lord  is  my  own  Good  Shep-herd,  Through  green  pas-  tares  and  be  -side  the   qui-et   wa-ters    Iead-i 


Rest- ing    and   then    re-vi  -  ving.       Hand    in    hand    we  wan-der     glad  -  ly       on. 


The  Lord  is  my  own  Good  Shepherd, 

Through  green  pastures 
And  beside  the  quiet  waters  leading; 
Resting  and  then  reviving, 

Hand  in  hand  we  wander  gladly  on. 

The  shadows  may  dim  our  pathway 

Through  the  valley, 
Yet  no  evil  will  we  fear,  for  He  will 
Never,  Oh  never,  leave  us, 

And  His  rod  and  staff  our  comfort  are. 


So  surely  His  tender  mercies 

Ever  follow, 

And  our  cup  o'erflows  with  joy  and  gladness; 
Blessings  attend,  us  daily, 

And  His  Home  is  ours  for  evermore. 

PHILIP— Oh,  I  wish  my  mother  could  hear  that  pretty 
song! 

MIRIAM — (In  a  drawling  tone.)  Why,  who'd  have 
believed  it?  The  little  thing's  really  got  a  mother,  after 
all! 

DAVID— (Jumping  up.)  Yes,  and  I  know  where  she 
lives,  too.  I'll  run  and  bring  her.  (Starts  away,  Tirzah 
appears.) 

ESTHER— Why,  there  she  comes  now,  I  believe! 


ACT  IV  27 

(The  children  grow  silent  as  Tirzah  comes  forward  slow 
ly,  looking  toward  the  group,  uncertainly;  holding  the 
little  jacket  to  her  breast.) 

PHILIP— (Jumping  up.)  Oh  Mother,  Mother!  Here  I 
am!  Come  and  listen  to  our  pretty  song. 

(Tirzah  comes  nearer;  listens  in  rapture  while  they  sing 
again;  then  sits  down  in  the  group,  her  arm  around 
Philip.  At  close  of  the  song  Ph.  opens  his  little  shirt 
front  and  takes  out  the  dove.) 

PHILIP— Look,  mother!  Here's  the  whole  secret.  This 
is  Samuel's  dear,  little  Pet  Dove,  and  now  I'll  tell  you 
how  it  all  happened.  While  I  was  dreaming  my  favorite 
dream  about  boys  and  angels,  Samuel  and  David  were 
sitting  close  beside  me,  sleeping;  and  they  must  have 
dreamed  something  lovely,  for,  when  we  all  got  awake, 
Samuel  let  me  have  his  coat  and  his  sandals  and  then 
he  let  me  take  his  dove  in  my  hands;  and  when  I  put 
her  up  to  my  lips  it  was  just  like  the  touch  of  my  Birth 
day  Angel's  wing  and  all  of  a  sudden  everything  came 
round  all  right. 

Isn't  she  a  dear  little  thing?  Feel  her,  mother!  Just 
feel  how  soft  and  smooth  she  is! 

(Tirzah  takes  the  dove  in  her  hands,  raises  it  upward, 
closing  her  eyes  and  moving  her  lips  as  if  in  prayer;  then 
kisses  it.  The  girls  all  now  clamor  to  take  the  bird.) 

GIRLS— Oh,  let  me  have  her!  Let  me.  Can't  I  have 
her  now?  Etc. 

PHILIP— Oh  no.  Let  Samuel  have  her  now.  Here 
Samuel.  You  ought  to  be  a  very  happy  boy.  She's  a 
real  angel  now,  you  see. 

HANNAH— Well,  do  you  hear  that!  Aren't  we  girls  real 
angels  too?  It  seems  to  me  you  boys  forget  pretty  easily. 

TIRZAH — Oh  dear  children,  now  you  see  how  girls 
and  boys  can  all  be  real  angels  of  love  and  mercy  and 
kindness  to  each  other.  You  are  "Ministering  Spirits", 
and  that  means  that  you  are  God's  Angels,  and  you 
always  will  be  Angels  to  me. 


28  THE    PET    DOVE 

SAMUEI^— Oh  it  wasn't  us.  It  was  all  the  doings  of  an 
old  man  down  there  in  that  tent;  these  girls  only  got 
here  in  time  for  the  refreshments. 


NAAMAH— No,  indeed,  for  Philip  recognized  us  in  his 
dream  long  before  that,  didn't  you  Philip?  Only,  we 
lost  our  wings  when  the  boys  waked  up.  Maybe  real 
boys  are  different  too. 


DAVID— Well,  real  boys  can  be  angels  sometimes,  can't 
they?     I'd  like  to  know. 


MIRIAM— Yes,   of   course   they   can.     But   I   guess   it's 
mostly  when  they're  asleep. 

DAVID— (With  a  grunt.)     Huh! 


PHILIP— Oh  Mother,  I  wish  every  day  could  be  like 
this  one.  It's  better  than  Ramoth-Gilead.  It  seems  just 
full  of  love  and  good  cheer.  I  wish  we  could  do  some 
thing  to  make  somebody  else  happy.  Oh,  wait  a  min 
ute.  I  have  a  plan.  I  know  two  places  where  a  song 
would  sound  beautiful. 


ALL— Where,   where?     We'll   all  go   if  it  isn't   too   far. 

(Rise.) 


PHILIP— Well,  do  you  see  that  little  cottage  door? 
(Points.)  Let  us  steal  over  there  and  sing  to  the  little 
baby  King. 


NAAMAH — If  there's  a  baby  there  Zillah  knows  a  little 
lullaby  that  would  be  just  the  thing.  Come  on. 

(Philip  leads  the  group  and,  tinkling  their  little  instru 
ments  as  they  go,  they  quietly  gather  before  the  door 
of  the  cottage  of  Mary  and  Joseph.  As  they  begin  to 
sing  the  door  opens  and  the  white  skirt  of  a  woman's 
dress  appears  within  the  shadow— nothing  more.  Then 
they  sing  this  lullaby': 


ACT   JV 

Lullaby       (3  verses) 


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30  THE    PET    DCVE 


Lullaby 

ZILLAH:— 

A  little,    dreaming   dove   may    softly   coo; 
A  small,  white  cloudlet  swim  the  silent  blue; 

One  little,   tinkling  brook, 

Purl  in  its  ferny  nook; 
One  small,   tired  lily  sip   the  fragrant  dew, 

ALL—  While  baby  sleeps. 

A   little  leaf  may   glisten   toward   the  West; 
A  small  night-birdie  vesper  in  its  nest; 

One  little,  fading  star 

May  linger  down  afar; 
One  small,  dim  glow-worm  light  the  world  to  rest, 

While  baby  sleeps. 

Time  lulls   along  in   quietude  supreme, 

Lest  lightest  step  disturb  one  dainty  dream. 

Sleep   on,   thou   little   dove, 

Safe   in   The   Father's   love, 
Till  twilight's  gloom  may  melt  in  morning's  gleam, 

While  baby  sleeps. 


(As  the  song   ends  the  door  closes,   but  a  little  light 
appears  at  the  window,  where  it  remains.) 


PHILIP— (Softly)  Now  let  us  go  over  and  sing  to  our 
good,  old  friend  in  the  tent.  Some  angels  may  not  un 
derstand  the  Chaldee  language,  but  I  rather  guess  some 
of  the  Chaldeans  will  understand  what  our  Bethlehem 
angels  have  to  say. 


(All    go    decorously    across,    quietly    gather    before    the 
tent,  and  sing  this  song) : 


ACT  IV     /    . 

The  Tent  Door  Song 

(3  verses) 


ikowsk.v.  An-    l..v  J.  R 


1      Fra  •  grant   are    red  ro-ses,     Love-ly     are    white    lil-ies  Bloom -ing  ev-er  fresh  and   gay 

...   i^iJJ 


White  the  sil-ver  moon -light.      Warm   the  gold-en   sun- light,    Bright  -ly   gleam- ing  day  by  day 

Fragrant  are  red  roses,  Lovely  are  white  lilies, 

Blooming  ever  fresh  and  gay. 
White  the  silver  moonlight,  Warm  the  golden  sunlight, 

Brightly  gleaming  day  by  day. 

Gentle  thoughts  are  roses,  Loving  words  are  lilies, 

Blooming  free  where  love  remains, 
Fair  the  smile  of  pleasure,  Dearer  still  the  treasure 

Of  the  heart  where  kindness  reigns. 

Lovelier  are  the  lilies,  Fairer  are  the  roses, 

Blooming   fresh    on    heav'nly    plains. 
Dearer  far  the  moonlight,  Brighter  far  the  sunlight, 

In  the  sweet  land  where  kindness  reigns. 
(As  the  song  ends,  Beulah   slips  round,   slaps  Philip 
on  back.) 

BEULAH— Tag!  You're  IT! 

(Instantly  the  spirit  of  play  comes  over  them.  They 
have  a  real  game  of  Tag,  one  of  the  oldest  of  Syrian 
games,  finally  retreating  from  the  stage.  When  all  is 
quiet,  the  flap  of  the  tent  is  slowly  thrown  back.  Gaspar 
looks  all  around,  then  steps  out  upon  the  platform. 
Nods  again  and  again  as  if  in  complete  satisfaction,  then 
smiles  and  says) : 

GASPAR — It  is  enough.  Our  quest  is  ended.  A  gentle 
star  has  led  us  to  the  King  we  sought.  In  the  voice  of 
His  mother  we  heard  the  lingering  echo  of  one  of  the 
songs  of  Heaven.  And  now,  in  the  rustle  of  the  wings 
of  a  little  dove,  and  amid  the  happy  voices  of  children, 
it  sounds  again  in  nearer,  and  clearer  tones,  the  deepest, 
sweetest  heraldry  of  His  Everlasting  Kingdom. 

"PEACE  ON  EARTH,  GOOD  WILL  TOWARD  MEN." 

(Then  he  retires  into  the  tent,  the  light  fades  away  and 
the  play  is  over.) 


A  New  Interesting  Play 

A  Captive  Maiden  in  Damascu 


By  JOHN  REA 

Author  of  "The  Pet  Dove" 


This  little  drama  should  find  a  place  wherever  a  pure, 
touching  and  inspiring  story  is  desired.  It  draws  its 
inspiration  from  the  fascinating  Biblical  story  of  Naaman,] 
the  Syrian.  The  plot  is  cleverly  handled  and  one's  inter- j 
est  is  held  during  the  entire  story.  It  will  appeal  toj 
both  young  and  old  and  is  especially  fitted  for  school, 
church  and  club  entertainments. 

One  of  the  happy  lessons  of  this  drama  is — the  great 
results  which  sometimes  are  accomplished  by  absolute 
faith  among  even  the  humblest  of  creatures,  and  one  of 
the  most  attractive  features  is  its  realistic  presentation 
of  ancient  oriental  life  so  foreign  to  our  occidental 
thought. 

The  costumes  are  those  used  in  Bible  times  in  Damas 
cus;  characters;  five  male  characters  and  five  female  char 
acters,  with  minor  parts  for  both  sexes.  The  Story: 
It  begins  as  the  shadow  of  an  unhappy  blight  is  falling 
upon  the  devoted  household  of  the  warrior,  Naaman, 
in  Damascus,  and  ends  when  the  sun  comes  out  again 
and  all  grows  bright  at  last  through  the  faith  of  a  little 
maid  who  had  been  captured  by  the  Damascene  soldiery 
and  presented  as  a  gift  to  Naaman's  wife. 

PRICE  25   CENTS 

Rev.  Miles  B.  Fisher,  S.  F. ;  Educational  Secretary  of  the; 
Congregational  Sunday  School  Society  for  the  Pacific 
Coast  says :  "After  having  read  'A  Captive  Maiden  in 
Damascus,'  a  number  of  times,  twice  to  discriminating 
hearers,  we  all  have  one  opinion  of  its  beauty  and  usabil 
ity.  I  am  satisfied  that  the  play  can  be  effectively  staged 
by  many  schools  and  will  meet  with  a  welcome." 

Published  by 
WHTTAKEB  &  RAY-WIGG-IN  CO. 

San  Francisco 


Gaylo.rd  Eros. 

Makers 

Syracuse,  N.  y. 
,  JAN.  21,  1908 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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